Indian Summer
by Featherz
Summary: On a peaceful golden summer's day, Will and Bran meet once more on the rolling hills of Wales. Five years on from The Grey King et al - both characters are aged around the seventeen mark .


AN: Well, hi there ;D This is my first TDIR fanfic. I've loved this series for a long time but only recently had the idea of writing for it. I was just kind of getting into the swing of things with this - characterisation, etc. But I actually rather like this piece.  


* * *

An Indian summer, Aunt Jen had promised. An Indian summer like the summer five years before, when Will had first ventured into the unknown territory of Wales as a small twelve year old boy. The rolling hills normally shrouded in shadowy mist were lit golden and green by the slowly sinking sun, the mellow light streaming gently over the tops of the hills and illuminating all in their path. It was humid and sticky; an Indian summer indeed.

Will let himself melt against the reassuringly solid oak tree at his back, closing his eyes blissfully as wave after wave of heavy heat washed over him. He did not succumb to the allure of sleep, instead quiescent in a dreamy haze of muddled half-thoughts.

There was a soft footstep in front of him, crunching on the few crinkled leaves already shed by the trees. Will didn't open his eyes. A solitary shadow loomed over the reclining boy, threatening to steal what glorious sunshine was left to him from the rare golden day. Will still didn't stir.

A rather exasperated sigh came from the slim figure as he looked down at his dozing companion; he knew that Will could sense him, and Will knew that he knew that Will could sense him. With a slight chuckle, the figure reached out and upended what remained of his bottle of water over the other boy. Will sat up sharply with a splutter.

"That was unnecessary," He protested, wiping his mouth and squinting up at his tormentor through the glare of the sun. "Is that you, Jane?"

"And a fine thing it is, to mistake me for a girl," Came a cool Welsh retort.

"Bran!" Will said in delight, an uncontrollable grin plastered across his face. He received an answering smile filled with just as much pleasure, if rather less vigorous in its approach.

"And why are you in Wales, Will Stanton? Missed me so much you couldn't stay away, is that it?" Bran teased, sitting down besides Will and stretching his legs out.

"Bran, you've grown." Will observed, neatly dodging the question.

"And so I should hope. Two years it is since we last met."

On an impulse Will hugged the white-haired boy beside him tightly, Bran responding after a few seconds with hesitant surprise.

"The Drews are here, too. Jane, Simon, Barney." Will remembered as he pulled away.

Bran looked at him dryly. "I haven't been and forgotten their names, you know."

Will made a dismissive noise. "You didn't come to visit me in Buckinghamshire." He accused, staring directly into the dark smoky glasses that hid sharp tawny eyes from view.

"Oh, you know me," Bran said lightly, thin fingers drumming a pattern on his jean-clad knee, "I'm a Welshman at heart. Couldn't bear to leave the farm."

_And yet there is an undercurrent of fear in your words, Bran Davies,_ thought the Old One in Will sadly, _fear that once more you will be cast out and rejected because of the colour of your skin._

The seventeen year old Will took this at face value, hitting Bran playfully on the arm in a chiding manner.

"Liar."

"Hypocrite." Bran retaliated, punching Will back slightly harder.

"Ow," Will said reproachfully, rubbing his arm. "That hurt."

His friend looked incredulous. "_That_ hurt? I think we will be needing to toughen you up, Will. Be a man."

Will snorted, brushing feathery strands of his longish brown hair out of his eyes.

"Bet I'd win in a fight, though."

"Bet how much?" Bran said quickly, feeling in his pockets. His endeavours yielded a few paltry coins, worth as little as they looked. "Tch. Must have spent more on lunch than I thought."

Will chewed on a grass stem meditatively. "Doesn't matter. I'd have beaten you anyway."

"Says who?" Bran asked in mock outrage, ripping up a tuft of stringy grass and throwing it at his friend.

"Says…" Will paused. His eyes slid sideways, and his face split into another wide grin. "Me!"

With a sudden swift movement he pounced on the slim boy at his side, his stockier frame giving him the initial advantage. The two boys rolled laughing and tussling a little way down the slope, harking back to past summers spent on the same hills. Bran wriggled on the bottom until with a sudden twist he was on top, tickling Will mercilessly until Will shrieked like his twelve year old self would have done, writhing in agony with his eyes scrunched up tightly.

"Br- Bra… hahahaha… no, Bran, stop, sto-oh-oh-op!"

With a bump the pair hit a rock and were brought to a sudden halt, Bran still sitting triumphantly astride Will's gasping form. His dark glasses had been knocked off at some point in the fray.

"And so, Will Stanton," Bran panted, victorious, a smug gleam in his bright eyes, "You owe me money, I am thinking."

Will shook his head. "You forgot. We weren't betting."

"Oh…" Bran said thoughtfully. "_Dammo_."

The brown-haired boy squirmed. "Would you consider getting up at any point? You're heavier than you look, you great lump."

There was a pause as Bran pretended to consider. "Hmm… no, I'm quite comfortable here, thanks."

"Bran!" Will laughed, pushing his friend off and sitting up. "Oh, look, your glasses."

Bran stretched out a hand for the dark shades, sliding them back onto his face to shield his golden eyes from the glare of the sun.

"_Diolch_."

"Stop speaking Welsh at me." Will complained, glancing at his watch. "Time for tea, I should think."

"No objection here." Bran said lightly, running a hand through his white hair. "First down there gets to sit with the lovely Jane Drew?"

Will rolled his eyes. "All right then."

Bran was off like a shot, bounding down the hill as sure as a mountain goat. Will watched in amusement as he followed behind at a rather more relaxed pace. "You haven't changed a bit, Bran Davies. Not one bit."

* * *

I originally intended to make this a slash oneshot, but then realised I wasn't that keen on the idea of Will and Bran as a couple. Plus I felt it didn't really suit this fic ^^

Oh, and I may be from England but I have no idea if it could get that hot in Wales. Consider that a bit of fictional license. :D

R&R, if you would.

~Featherz


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